Always smile with your eyes, too!
by FallenAngelItachi
Summary: An eccentric assassin will always make odd choices, especially in women. And when said woman is a yujo, she always has baggage. Question is, how heavy? Short pre-burn Shishio Makoto story with OC.


**A/N** : Heeey pretty hearts and faces! This is a one-shot for pre-burn Shishio Makoto, the one and only shadow assassin after the shadow assassin. xD I had never tried my hand at this character before and neither would I have had it not been for RuroKen secret Santa on tumblr. This was a gift for tehwolfehart who requested for the man himself! I had much fun writing it even though he gave me a sort of a headache somewhere near the end but it was more than worth it. After all, I like the challenge and I think I enjoyed it well enough.

Happy holidays~~

* * *

Blood sprayed in a morbid fountain, split seconds after the cut was made; as another victim fell from his sword, another assassination was well-executed. His lip tugged upwards. Job well done. Yet, as always, he didn't stay to admire his handiwork, he didn't even need to glance back and make sure the man was dead, he knew he was. Besides it was the kill itself that was the excitement, not the corpse it left behind. So he flicked his sword to remove any excessive blood, but didn't wipe it; some of it had to stay on, remain there and feed the blade. That's how his sword was made and he wanted to make the most of it.

Something was different about today's kill though. The hunt was all fun and good and the act of violence felt nice but not…great. He was used to great. He considered, as he walked away from the crime scene yet without any witnesses – as it was carried out on the path of a mountain during twilight – that maybe this wasn't the thrill he was seeking this particular day. No, he realised, what he wanted was a woman.

With that thought in mind, he quickened his pace and made for the town near this path; it was only an additional hour of walking, he could make it before nine, have a quick bite and then head to the nearest whorehouse to have his pick…which of course happened right on schedule. It wasn't longer than fifty eight minutes later that he arrived and headed to a restaurant; after a hot udon, he was already walking towards his second destination.

He would have the best-dressed woman of the house today.

He never chose according to a particular preference, he simply went for the best…something. Best hair, best colours, thinnest, fullest, shortest, and tallest—it varied. He would also chose beforehand in order to avoid anything stupid happening, like anyone getting attached.

"Welcome dear costumer!" he was greeted the same way he always was, by a short, old man. His hair were already grey, his back bent from the serpentine attitude and the will to serve others. He could scoff; men like him running whorehouses, such a waste. "My name is Kentaro Yoshimitsu. Please follow me inside, where you can choose your companion for the evening."

It was a small town; and if he couldn't tell by the size when he came, he would be able to tell by the fact there were no geishas in this establishment—and this must have been the most expensive joint. He sighed. Well, he wasn't looking for a geisha if he were being honest, but still…

"These lovely ladies are the ones not currently otherwise engaged; as you can see, we have a variety that suits all tastes. Please have your pick."

He was led to the secondary room, much bigger than the one they greeted him in. beautiful designs on the walls, some vulgar some actually tasteful, but they all had their purpose, in this unfurnished room, with nothing but women in it. It also had no other embellishments than the designs on the paper walls, but he knew the concept was that the women here were so beautiful no other embellishments were needed.

So he disregarded the old man immediately and his eyes swept the room to find the best-dressed woman. He saw many smiling faces, fake, empty smiles; he never cared about the smiles. He concentrated on the eyes instead and they were all so sad and miserable…it was amusing. But it was also not the target of this day, so he—

He suddenly stopped looking.

He hadn't found the best dressed one but he had run into the most unbelievable set of eyes: a young woman of no notable appearance or poise – or clothes for that matter – held the most disdain and hate in her eyes, as _she_ regarded **him**. He stared at her for the longest of times; her smile was never gone, but neither was that flippant attitude of hers. He felt like she was pitying him! He was about to ask her name out of spite. He'd teach her to dare look at him that way and think she could get away with it…!

But then he realised: this wasn't his goal for tonight, he had said so himself. She wasn't the best-dressed, not by a long shot. So he completed the scan of the room and spotted her: a woman in her twenties, black hair woven intricately, held by two pins, wearing the most flattering and beautiful kimono.

It was decided.

"I want the one with the blue-pink kimono."

"Ah, our Satori-chan, she is very popular with the costumers indeed." At the same time, the woman took a deep bow but then stood and went to the two men's side. Yet something inside him told him this Satori wasn't the one he really wanted. That was a first for him. But now it was said and done and he wouldn't be swayed by one simple set of eyes. "Why don't you guide this man to your room, Satori-chan?"

"Of course; please follow me…"

"Shishio," he simply said as she appeared to be searching for what to call him.

"Please follow me, Shishio-sama."

Her eyes promised pleasures and fantasies fulfilled as the lust in her tone seeped into her manner of walking; she ascended the stairs first, to give him a full view from all perspectives. His own smirk grew and he knew he was about to have a very satisfying night, no matter what his mind was trying to tell him.

.

.

"We are very pleased to see you are back already, Shishio-san!" the old man all but rubbed his hands together out of greed. He was right to do so, though, seeing Shishio was back the very next day. "Is it safe to assume that you'll be wanting the same woman again?"

"No, I want another."

Satori was good, eager, and pretty agile; but that was most whores. He'd spent far too much time in such places to be blown away by that. Besides, you never pick a whore twice, they weren't geisha. "The woman with the brown hair and the simple red kimono…the one that had her hair almost loose." He supplied in the end annoyed as the man didn't seem to understand who he was referring to. "That's who I want."

"Ah, Aoi-chan…" Why was his voice so strained? "I'm afraid she's currently busy, serving another client. Would you like to pick someone else?"

Surprisingly "no, I want that one; I can wait."

"O-of course." Why was this old man so nervous? He looked like he was frantically looking for a way out. "But, you see, if you wait, we should have to charge more, for there will be more services provided and we would hate to charge you that much only on your second visit; m-maybe you should-!"

He took out a bag of coins and threw them on the hard wood. It was very heavy, thus full of money, thus what this man wanted, thus he had no more right to complain. "I can wait; I won't repeat myself."

Cold sweat seemed to run down his forehead. "O…f course, dear costumer. Of course. But I must warn you, I do not know how long they will take-!"

"If I said I'll wait, that becomes my problem so stop. Talking. Just guide me to the waiting room."

With the sword on his thigh and the look in his eye, Shishio was too threatening for the man to even speak. He only nodded repeatedly and guided him to the salon. There he was served with fresh fruit, warm sake and tasty onigiri…for almost the entirety of the night. What was that woman and that guy doing? She didn't strike him as the person to be so…committed to her job. So did that mean it wasn't disdain for men like him that caused her to stare like that, but just him? The thought drove circles in his head. Why? If that was the case, why the hell? And if that really was the case why was it that his excitement only grew?

But not all was wasted; soon his question would be answered. An almost frantic Kentaro came to him, sweeping sweat off his forehead. "Aoi-chan is…finished with her previous costumer. You may join her in her room now. Please follow me, I will guide you there."

He sounded very stiff; as if he was already regretting his decision of letting him wait. Shishio…was intrigued. What was this woman? An involuntary smirk grew on his face. And when the door to her room was opened, and he saw a small chaos behind it, he was finally validated. So the woman wasn't disdainful just to him…but to everyone. And if the upturned furniture, torn clothes and broken crockery meant anything, at least she would be a riot. A fire was lit within him: a fight and a night of pleasure at the same time? That would be a first.

It took the old man at least half a minute to spot the woman – a task that only took him seconds – and once he did, he went to her, bending over her. "Aoi-chan, you have another costumer. Please, _please_ behave yourself. _For your own good, this man is very dangerous_."

He whispered the last part, thinking he wouldn't be heard. Of course he was, but Shishio hadn't cared. What annoyed him was the first part. Behave? He didn't want her to behave. That was the whole point of choosing her! Thankfully, the woman seemed to hold the same belief as Shishio and despite the lack of any light other than a candle at the very far end of the room, he saw her expression twist into something bitter.

Desperate, the man stood to his full height, which wasn't that much and came to Shishio as if to appear professional and, could it be, bigger, more threatening. "You are advised that should any harm be inflicted upon her that would drop her sell-value, you shall be charged the whole amount of her purchase."

Oh? Interesting statement to make before scampering off like a rat. But enough of that man! As he shut the door behind them, he directed his full attention to the girl. She was sitting like a proper lady, legs under her, hands folded, in the middle of the room, surrounded by the catastrophe. It was obvious someone had tried to yank her kimono off of her but didn't succeed and she had put it back not at the best of her ability, if anything hastily. Her hair were even more of a mess and some of her makeup smeared.

With slow, decisive steps, he headed to her. He saw her flinch, but otherwise made no other movement. She simply sat there, looking straight ahead. And when he sat down to fill the space she was looking at, he was met with apathy and the same disdain as before. He had no idea why, but he was smirking even wider.

"What's up with the room? Wanted a renovation?"

She met his expression and her lips took to a lopsided smirk. "Yes; there was a big stain here previously, standing exactly where you're sitting right now, and it had to be removed."

"And it was?"

"Eventually…"

"I see. And how did breaking things help?"

"He got scared and finally gave up; some don't, they are idiots like that. But most do."

He snorted at her words. Now that he looked at her closer, he could see blood coming out of the corner of her mouth and some from her nose, but that was already dried. And the more he adjusted, the more he saw bruises on her wrists and other little marks that spoke of violence. He took out his pipe and lit it, the brief light casting ominous shadows on both faces. "If they get scared by a woman breaking things, I don't think they are worth anything." Then an idea. "How do you determine what each individual that comes through here is worth?"

"If they are coming here on the first place, they are not worth much." She purposefully let some space between her next words, to let it sink in. "Too few men that come here are truly worthy, but then I guess that perfectly reflects the real world, so it's no shock that that's the case, correct?"

He gave a low chuckle. "There aren't many people in general who are worth my time so I have to agree with you…Aoi, from what I heard."

She inclined her head but a fraction. "And you are?"

"Shishio Makoto."

"Should I call you Shishio-san?"

"I don't care what you call me."

As if that meant the conversation was over, she inclined her head…and made no further effort to entertain him! He was nearly offended—nearly. "Don't you think you're in the wrong line of work if you really believe what you just told me?"

"…what do you mean?"

"You fight men who come here to have their way with you, even if that's the only reason a man would come here, and you think of them as less for even being in your presence. Not to mention you think yourself above them. And all the while you waste their money."

"…I didn't choose to be in this profession and if I had the chance I wouldn't even be here. I abhor the concept. Not the women who are brought here though, seeing they are all being taken advantage of by those pigs who only seek to satisfy their most basic needs."

"Basic needs are important." She gave him the perfect example of the evil eye. "And if you don't like it, then leave. Who's forcing you to stay?"

"Um…everyone?"

He snorted again, and he could see she was furious. "Excuses. You'd have left, if you really wanted it."

"…you think I _like_ this?"

He shrugged. "Maybe you like being a victim; maybe you don't want to be the master of yourself; maybe you don't want freedom badly enough."

"I ran away from this hell whole three times! Three. And not once did I make it past the woods, because I don't know how to do this, how to stay undetected."

"It's very simple: you kill all witnesses and the ones who want you back."

She openly stared, chin hanging open. "H-…how can you just say that? Kill them? Kill them all? It's that simple? Why would anyone's mind go to killing as the first option? And what about the bodies you leave behind? Or the police?"

"If you're strong enough, you don't care about such small things; and if you want something badly enough, you kill for it."

"No you don't, you appalling individual! There are…ethics! There are rules against things like that—people like that, like _you_."

"Yet here I am, talking to you." He leaned forward, blowing the smoke of his pipe in her face. "You know why?" He didn't wait for her to answer, though "because when you're strong enough, rules don't apply to you. The stronger you are, the freer you get."

For the life of her, she could not speak. She was in such a state of a shock, she couldn't find the appropriate thing to say. But finally, she really noticed and gave that sword a good once-over. "What are you even…?"

He smirked; she swallowed. "Now you're asking the right questions." She shivered just by the sheer malice in his voice. "I'm an assassin. I kill people for fun…and for a living I guess." Her eyes grew wide at his admittance. "What? Didn't expect me to just say it? Why not? You can't do anything about it. Even if you tell people, so what? Didn't you see your pimp? He's scared of me." He was so close, she could feel his breath on her skin. "So scared of me that he offered you up even if he's so in love with you."

To that particular piece of information, she went blank. She sat back on her legs properly, realising she was so taken by the argument that it was her that had bent forward and not just him that leaned close. "That old man is what now?"

"Heh," he snorted "you think any other whore in any establishment would be allowed to display the behaviour you do towards clients without being beaten for it? And if you're honest and you've run away three times, they would have killed or locked you up by now. Yet here you are, throwing things at costumers, talking back to them. Sure, some stay in the end but that's…what, one person per month? Especially since you have the plainest clothes and hairdos thus get picked out less. No wonder he was so reluctant to have me buy your company—two people in one night is a statistic abnormality. So basically, he keeps you to himself without making that much of an effort. How many times have you slept with _him_ though?"

"Not even once!" He showed his obvious disbelief, so she repeated it, even more heatedly. "I would never allow that man to touch me! He tried once and his right eye wouldn't open for a week!"

He thought back to the old man; he thought he had a lazy right eye, but what she was saying seemed to make sense. "Oh? Interesting."

"It's not interesting, it's vile! Most men are vile—in fact, I don't know if there are any men who aren't. Either looking away when an injustice happens, or performing the injustice, no one does what's right."

He didn't know why, but she made his blood boil in a good way. When people in general spoke back, he didn't like it, but now, hell now it was a rush. "And what do you think is right?" Just pushing her buttons was a thrill.

"There's only one right thing to do and you know what it is because when you don't do it you feel embarrassed and look away, as if it doesn't concern you." She paused but for a second and then continued, thundering him with a look. "And to speak your language, if most people stood up to those who abuse power then they would be the most powerful ones—there's strength to be found in numbers."

"Yes but currently the numbers agree with the strong and they do nothing when an injustice happens. Doesn't that make it justice?"

"If water boils and spills and puts out the fire that's supposed to keep going, it happened; it won't magically go back in the container and rekindle the fire because all people present didn't do anything about it!"

"But it wasn't their charge," he snapped back immediately.

"So what? The fire went out anyway," she replied in rapid succession.

"Was it so important to keep the fire going?"

"That was the point yes, so all of them are now collectively responsible for not keeping it alive."

Suddenly, he laughed; it was loud and strong and absolute, making her feel like he ended their back and forth. "As much as I enjoy our conversation, I didn't come here for a clash of ideals."

He hit it once to put it out and twice to knock out any remaining soot. He could see each hit vibrate through the woman, who suddenly looked on with dread. "Though I can't deny being entertained by your efforts of trying to reason with me, I was looking for another kind of entertainment."

He enjoyed watching her flail, trying to find something to throw at him or protect herself with in case he came closer; he admired her instinct of survival though, as her first response was clearly flight. "So you'll either have sex with me or I'm gonna leave now."

She stared. "You're…giving me that option?"

"I'm presenting you with two choices; each one has its pros and cons."

"I see." She pretended to think about it. Maybe she really was after all, she took a long time to answer. "Please leave; I would not like to have sex with you."

They looked at each other for a long moment and he found it surprising to see her expression unreadable. And if she managed to accomplish such a feat, she deserved the break.

"Fine; I'm leaving." He was many things, but undesirable to women wasn't one of them. He sort of took it personal now. "Let's see if you escape the old man tonight."

.

"Shishio-san…why are you here for the third night in a row?"

He took his seat opposite Aoi who again sat in that same position. Only this once she wasn't surrounded by a mess or rubble, simply by the decor of the room, clean and proper. "What do you mean? This is the second time I visit you."

"Me, yes, but what about our establishment in general?"

Clicking his tongue, he lit his pipe. "What kind of way to greet a well-paying customer is this? You're not a geisha but I'm still paying for the pleasure of your company you know; better act a little friendlier."

"You aren't paying _me_ , you know…"

"Have a little curtesy, will you?"

She rolled her eyes. "I guess…would you like something to eat then? Drink maybe?"

"If I wanted to fill my stomach I'd have gone to a restaurant!"

"…" She forced a smile. "How about a massage then?"

"Now that's a good offer."

She tried very hard not to say anything too scathing. "Then please remove the rest of your hakamashita while I prepare the futon."

Despite doing precisely as he was told, he still said "stop stalling and tell me already: did the old man make a move yesterday?" She turned ten shades of red and that was all the proof he needed. "Told you." She glared. "So? How bad was it?"

"Nothing was bad because nothing happened! As if I'd let that old man touch me…" she repeated what she stated yesterday and he could see she was honest. No one can fake that amount of disgust, arrogance and self-satisfaction at the same time.

"That's just because he's too old to rape you."

"Shishio-san!" she exclaimed scandalised, causing him to laugh.

.

"Ah, if it isn't Shishio-san; how _unusual_ of you to drop by. Please come in, your favourite sake is already warming anyway."

His eyebrow shot high. "Still not raped by the old man then."

"The day that old man tries to have his way with me is the same he loses an appendage." But then she stopped and listened to herself; she seemed to have some sort of epiphany. Turning to the guest that had just arrived, she glared daggers! "Stop coming here! You're rubbing off on me in the worst possible way."

"I call that an improvement."

"As if…why do you keep coming here anyway? It's been a week and a half and you do nothing but badger me."

"I told you I'll keep coming here till you decide you want to have sex with me."

"You are a vile, evil and egotistical man and I would never willingly lie with you."

"…I still can't see why not."

"That alone is proof you are too far gone. Society would probably be better without you."

"And yet, it wasn't better with you in it, so don't talk too much. Just keep my sake warm and we're even."

"…" she was about to say something nasty, but eventually held her tongue. He surprisingly made a point and she would be hypocritical not to admit it. So she just looked away, significantly less lively, preparing his sake and his massage.

.

"So what's _your_ sob story?"

"Excuse me?"

They were having sake, both inclining opposite each other. He supported his head with his palm, right elbow supporting the rest of him. His sword lay right next to him always within reach. Right side always exposed, as he wore the one sleeve off, he used it as some sort of futon. Pipe in the other hand, he was relaxing after his ritual – by now – massage and drank in silence with the serious woman. In fact, she was always serious, contrasting heavily with his ever-present smirk.

So when he asked her a fairly simple question in a fairly serious tone himself, she was taken aback.

"I'm asking you about how you ended up here; I never really care you know, so consider this an honour."

She fought with herself not to roll her eyes. He did just admit being curious about her, enough to ask, so she shouldn't waist the moment: a moment he spoke and acted like a normal person and not a homicidal maniac. "…I was sold to this place by a man who had in turn purchased me from my ex-husband."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Your man sold you off? Why? What did you do to him?"

She detested the accusation in his tone and the fact he was actually correct. But most of all, he hated how it was regarded as a normal thing to sell a person just because they might have slighted you. "I stabbed him. Between the ribs."

Just the smirk that graced his face was enough to ruin her mood and stop talking! But his expression clearly meant "go on, now that you've finally told something of real interest" and she did want to get this off her chest, so she continued. "I wasn't trying to kill him, not really. I was trying to stop him. He was…he was forcing himself on a woman and I had no other way to make him stop."

"Your husband with another woman, eh?"

"Don't try to goad me, it won't work. I knew why he married me: I was a sensible young woman with a dying father who wanted to live her days quietly and he wanted someone to manage his estate without the fear of leaving off with the money. I am quite good with money, so he picked me. I guess he wanted a family at some point, too…well, he could still have it. Just not with me."

"So no hard feelings towards the other woman? No bouts of jealousy?"

"My husband was a man who couldn't stop chasing after skirts and I knew that; at the very least I respected him for being open about it. I just never realised he'd be forcing himself on those other women. And if anything, I feel twice as mortified, knowing it was my husband who did something so horrible to her."

"Pssssst, what a big heart." The enthusiastic sarcasm was driving her mad, but she'd be damned if she let it show. "So what happened then? You stabbed him between the ribs you said. He should've died, not sell you."

"It wasn't that deep or maybe he got lucky, I don't know; all I know is I left him there on the ground bleeding and ran away with the girl. I hole myself up in my house but three days later there's the police, coming to arrest me." She shrugged. "Only they didn't. Turns out my husband had a friend and he took me and put me aside somewhere…tch, they beat me black and blue those two days."

She shook her head.

"And then my husband made the arrangements and he sold me off to a friend of his. He was the type of man who looked at you and you felt tainted simply by that fact; he was the revolting sort of person who made you feel uncomfortable in your own skin by looking at it way too much. When he'd come around, I'd tell him to keep me away from him and he'd promise to never let him nowhere near me…and then he turns around and sells me to him, like I'm a thing. All because he wanted to hurt me."

"That's reasonable; you did stab him, you betrayed his trust."

She felt her blood boil. "Reasonable? And he betrayed me first."

"But he didn't do anything to you and you knew he was cheating anyway."

"And that makes it in any way better? There's a difference between knowing your husband is unfaithful and looking the other way and knowing your husband is _a criminal_ and looking the other way!"

"Finally, some emotion!" he triumphed when he watched her lean forward, eyes wild and fist clenched. "You've been talking about all of this as if it happened to someone else. But it didn't. It happened to you."

"Yes, I know, thank you very much, no need to remind me."

"So why did that guy sell you here? If he was so obsessed with you how come he gave you away?"

To that, she couldn't help but smile, really smile, as if she was suppressing a giggle. "…he thought I was a virgin thus I'd fetch too high a price to pass it up."

He was confused. "But you were married." She nodded, still same expression on her face, enjoying his astonishment. "You were married to a man for—how long?"

"Ten months."

"You were married to a man who liked women for ten months; how could he think you were still a virgin?"

"Apparently my ex-husband never told him about our explicit romantic life, thankfully, yet was ready to share the same details with the women he would bed on the side so he was under the impression we never lay together."

"Idiot."

"It was fortunate for me, so I kept my mouth shut. Then he sold me here, indeed fetching a high price, and…I started being here."

"And no one came to buy you while you were still considered a virgin?"

"No; they actually had a bidding war for that. A very rich man won and after too much money given and way too much time spent, he 'deflowered' me."

"Heh, it was actually entertaining; the stabbing part was the best. Any regrets?"

"Yes, just the one." She looked up to meet his devious eyes and matched his grin with an identical one. "I didn't finish him off when I could."

Shishio laughed.

It was sinister and loud but it was genuine and…just like him, she realised. At first she would flinch and be frightened by his emotional outbursts. They were just as unpredictable as him and from a man who oozed danger, the last thing anyone wanted was unpredictability. But he had it in bounds, no wonder he was so confident—she bet he was very good at his "job". And all of his confidence wasn't for naught, she could sense it in the way he carried himself.

In a way, she could call him honourable. He flatly admitted to everyone he was up to no good, he was corrosive and selfish; if anyone ended up being wronged by him well, who'd fault was it? He had warned you, he had the decency to do that much. But then again, he was charismatic enough to lure you in.

All in all, he was dangerous. But, she was used to him by now, two weeks later. She huffed. "Shishio-san, your laugh is distasteful."

He made a face. "Your lack of humour is also."

"I do not have a lack of humour. I have a wonderful sense of humour when the situation calls for it."

"And when does it call for it?"

"…just drink your alcohol."

.

"Where is Aoi?"

"Sh-Shishio-sama! You're here…like clockwork…" the nervous old man spluttered as he watched him descend the stairs from Aoi's room. "Now, you see, this morning when we woke up-!"

"I asked a question and I won't repeat myself."

"I'm trying to answer! Listen to me Shishio-sama, it's important. Aoi has been kidnapped." His eyebrow shot high, hand resting at the space between his hakamashi and his wraps. He noticed then, women gathering around them, women who either had no clients or just finished with them.

"When we woke up this morning and had our usual tally, she didn't show up. We went to her room, thinking she might have escaped – again –" he added annoyed "but when we went to her room, it was upside down, signs of struggle everywhere! Blood even…not too much but it was there. And so, we were worried and started looking around for any clues, while I sent my boys out to find anyone who might look like her."

The old man was so distressed, he was on the verge of crying. "All we found was this note."

He handed him the note and the women swarmed him to take a good look at it; it was a square piece of paper with messy kanji all over it. The male form was apparent from the brushstrokes, as well as the language. It was real, authentic; she hadn't forged this to escape, as was his immediate though. This was written by a man. Someone kidnapped her.

It read _She's mine now; don't come looking for her if you value your lives._

Shishio felt a pang of something he hadn't expected to ever associate with a person and much to his surprise, it wasn't passing: possessiveness. That was strange. "Who could have written this?"

"There was a young man, no older than you, that was very much in love with her. Much like you, he too was the scary sort of person. We couldn't refuse him, so he would visit her. But ever since you came, he's been nervous and tried to keep himself away yet gain information at the same time. He was with her just before you came the third time you visited her. He may be scary and look strong but he's penniless. So when he saw _you_ had money, he started getting nervous because—because, well, he thought you wanted to buy her." there was a silent moment between the two men.

"Do you?" He asked then. "Do you want to buy her?" he clarified as if the silence from Shishio's part was due to lack of comprehension.

"No," he refused in the end; he had no such intention. He had no time to be involved with women anyway, especially ones with such drama behind them.

"Oh." Kentaro seemed a little relieved yet worried at the same time. "But the problem still remains that she's been kidnapped and it was caused because of you."

So they dared to implicate him just so he could do the dirty work for them. If he weren't so impressed a spineless worm like him had the guts to do it, he'd have probably left. "…he's the problem, not me. And I don't care. I'm just curious. What does that man look like?"

"He's taller than you, but he's thinner and has no muscles." A woman offered.

Another added: "He wears glasses and always western clothing, but his hair are as long as yours. He has a good face but poor posture."

"You sure paid a lot of attention to him…yet you still couldn't spot him coming in here and kidnapping your woman." He snorted with laughter. "Well, I'm out! If she isn't here, I don't see why I should linger. By-."

"No wait!" the old man hanged from his sleeve, tugging in desperation. Shishio clicked his tongue annoyed and tried to shake him off. "You look like you're strong and certainly crafty so you may be able to find her! So please do; find her and bring her back to us!"

"…why?"

"Huh?"

"Why should I bring her back here when I find her? What will I gain from it?"

"O-of course, of course! I can give you anything you wish; money; free nights here! I'll even refund you half the money you spent here and give you-!"

"I refuse." Women and old man looked at him almost offended. "I don't need your money and I don't care about you or your establishment. I will be leaving now."

It took only one look to make the old man let go of him and despite their best wishes, the rest of the women didn't dare to hang on to him, too, in fear they'd end up on the floor or worse. But the old man wouldn't give up and fear notwithstanding, he proposed he "at least allow one of my men to follow you around in case you do find her."

Shishio looked back over his shoulder as he was walking out, smirk wide. "If your man can follow me, I doubt you'd need me to find her on the first place." He turned back around and started walking away again though this once, he shrugged. "Do whatever you want."

He exited the whorehouse nonchalant, keeping up his disinterested act yet he was boiling inside; he had almost dived for his sword once or twice in there, out of pure spite. He didn't care about her…but he cared about her whereabouts. He cared who she was with and how she was treating him because if he spent two whole fucking weeks entertaining a whore, she'd better believe he'd get what he wanted in the end! _He_ would, not some kidnapping asshole. And she better not have orchestrated this, or else! Because really, she had him right there, in arm's reach for two weeks. None other would be better than him to do something like this. If he found out he was just a plant, he'd plant them both in the fucking ground.

.

"Mmmmm. Mmmmmmmmmm! Mmmm! Mm!"

He traced the tall, thin man the girls so accurately described all the way to a warehouse at the outskirts of town: it was dark and dingy and the air was stale; all in all, not the most romantic spot to hide a person you wanted to supposedly live with for the rest of your life. But if he was in such a hurry, it made sense he'd stuff her in here.

So he went in, silently at first. He didn't want to give away his position just so he could go ask her what this was all about. But when he found her gagged and bound – yet otherwise carefully placed on top of tatami mats at the only dry place in the entire building – jumping frantically to be noticed, he had his answer. She was honestly kidnapped.

He swaggered all the way to where she was being held as she settled down, giving him her most indignant look that he decided to show off right now and take his sweet time. He sat next to her, as if he was visiting her in her room, at the whorehouse and the only missing item was his pipe. She started getting impatient now, openly showing it with her eyes.

"Mmmmm." He smirked wider. "Mmmmm!" Finally, he dug his finger between the fabric and her mouth and pulled it down. "Thank Buddha! Will you please untie me now?"

"How about a thanks to me, after all the trouble I went in to find you, instead of Buddha?"

"…thank you for finding me, Shishio-san. Do you care to untie me _before he realises and comes in?_ " She checked the sarcasm in her tone, as she could see him getting irritated with her.

"Why the rush?" It was obvious he wasn't expecting an answer – nor did he want one – as he immediately changed the subject. "Suzuki, huh. Who is this clown?"

She rolled her eyes; Shishio could be very headstrong. "He's a poor man, as in he has no money, who happened to have an infatuation with me, since the moment I was brought in. He had never visited before, from what they told me, and he only came around because he saw me fighting the guy who was dragging me to the whorehouse and thought I was interesting. He said he wanted to get to know me…days turned into weeks, weeks into months and for the entire year I have been in this hellhole he's been visiting me. He's the only regular client I used to have." Yet her tone was still as apathetic as ever.

"But you still didn't like him?"

She clenched her teeth. "…he's not my type. One cannot force an affection to form."

"Still, if you wanted, you could have easily used him to run away. I'm surprised _he_ hasn't tried this before now, if anything."

"He's not that daring; and now he was only scared you'd buy me off and I would no longer be there. Besides I would never use _him_ to run away; with you right here, why would I even bother?"

"Damn right." But then he realised what she had just said. "And why is that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why _would_ you prefer me over him?"

"Um…because you're stronger?" As if he needed to ask. "And much more efficient. Plus, you're not in love with me so you wouldn't do anything too foolish or unpredictable."

He smirked wider, almost like an imp. "So why hadn't you asked me to get you out of there already?"

"…because it would involve numerous people dying; I didn't want to be the cause of so many deaths."

"But Suzuki will die anyway."

"There's no need to kill-!"

"He kidnapped you while I was still visiting; the only reason I'm here **is** to kill him. "

But that didn't sit right with her. Shishio didn't lie and yet, if he was here just for that then…

"So why did you come to me first?" His eyebrow was raised in a silent question. "If all you wanted was to kill him for taking your stuff, why are you here?" He shrugged, as if he had no reason but in reality he'd prefer to die than say the truth. Sadly for him, realisation dawned on her face. "You thought I talked him into it, didn't you? You thought I had him take me away…" She chuckled. "Did it hurt your ego that much that you had to make sure by coming to me first? And what if I had convinced him to run away with me? Would you kill me, too?"

"Yes." He reconsidered. "Maybe." She looked like she was impatient for a real answer. "I don't know. It would depend on my mood. Right now it's good so I can't say yes confidently."

"Ah."

Something between amused yet a little annoyed he was found out, he simply said "be happy I untied you."

.

"You really didn't have to kill him!"

This was maybe the twelfth time in an hour she said that, not counting the hundred times she did when he had just chopped off his head. It was starting to become tiresome. As they walked together in the middle of the night, in the middle of the road that led outside the city, her always a few steps behind, he sighed.

"I know; I wanted to."

"Stop saying it as if that is in any way better!"

He stopped abruptly and turned to face her, one hand in his one sleeve and the other visible and clutching his elbow. "…what do you want, you over demanding woman?"

"Nothing now, you've already killed him!"

"If you didn't want him dead that much, you should have had sex with me."

"What!? How is that in any way related? I'm not the one who killed him, why should I have prevented it by sleeping with you? And how?"

"If you'd slept with me when I told you, I wouldn't have kept coming back and he wouldn't have gotten so jealous."

She rolled her eyes. "That's ridiculous. You might as well blame yourself on the first place for picking the establishment you did."

"Why would I do that? I'm not the one repeating "you shouldn't have killed him" endlessly. And if anything, you should be happy I picked your establishment because look at you now, wandering around free."

Her chest swell in full size just so she could talk back, but the air was never used; in the end, he was right. "But don't shift the blame on me." she contented herself with.

"I don't; I killed him. I did that. He was just too weak not to die and you were just too weak to stop me."

He couldn't hear feet shuffling anymore, so he turned to see her immobile, hands in front of her chest; he too stopped. "So it's his fault he died for not being strong enough to defend himself?"

"Yes, pretty much."

"But there are laws-!"

"If you're strong enough, even laws and rules bend to your will, I've already said this."

She shook her head vividly, eyes wide. "…you're crazy!" Then she sped up her pace, bypassed Shishio and kept walking blindly towards one destination: away from him.

But he simply smirked, taking the left fork of the road. "And you're about to take the road back to the town you just left from."

She stopped, squaring her shoulders; after a moment that felt like an hour, she walked back to where she was and then fell into step with Shishio. She pretended he wasn't there. But she couldn't for too long. Despite having made up her mind of walking through the night, to avoid being found, she was starting to falter when she saw Shishio wasn't stopping, too.

"Will you stop following me, Shishio-san?"

She sounded tired and annoyed, as if she had enough of him. "I'm walking ahead of you; how am I the one following?" In contrast, he was spry and lively and he got on her nerves with each of his witty comments. He could see it, too and felt all too satisfied—especially with the colour her cheeks took.

"But you know that doesn't matter! You just walk faster and you're smart enough to guess my approximate route."

He laughed! "Suddenly you think so highly of me, don't you?"

"…you're still an evil pig."

"Well, this evil pig is heading towards Ohira village; if you don't-…oh? What sort of expression is this?"

"Y…you can't be heading there. You can't! Of all the places in the entirety of our nation, you are heading there!? I can't believe it!"

He smirked. "I'm guessing by your reaction that that's your destination, too?"

She didn't answer; she only collapsed at the side of the road. Shishio sighed. He had half a mind to leave her there. In fact, he kept walking away for well over a minute. But something inside him compelled him to go back and take her with him. he didn't go in the trouble of finding her and killing her kidnapper to just let her rot at another whorehouse once some other man find her—because there was no way any respectable person would ever walk this road in this time.

Shishio sighed again as he turned around, walked back to the unconscious woman and threw her over his shoulder. Heh, she had weight to spare. Rolling his eyes at his own pathetic behaviour – saving a person, him, how ridiculous – he kept walking towards their destination. He'd rest the next night when they'll have reached the first town.

.

Sun peeked through her fringe that covered her eyes, along with her eyelids; but she was rested enough to finally feel it and crack an eye open. She realised she was looking at an unfamiliar ceiling, probably from a stable, coupled with the smell that registered slowly. When she tried to move and felt something pierce her, she was certain that was hay and she was indeed in some sort of stable. She looked to her right and saw a boarded up window. Looking at her left, there was Shishio.

"…what day is it?" she asked as she lazily sat up; she made sure all of her clothes were in order and she was surprised to see she was actually covered with a blanket.

He on the other hand, per usual, smoking his pipe. "The one after the next."

She stopped for a moment. "So Thursday."

"Bingo."

"I've been out of it for two days, huh…" he nodded affirmatively but she half-glared. He was way too lively for her taste. "How come you're still around? I figured you'd walk away and let the wolves eat me."

"Judging by your tone, you'd prefer me leaving you."

"…indeed." But the honest answer to that was _no_ and it bewildered her. Why was it no? She couldn't stand this person, head to toe. His existence angered her; why did she want him to be there when she woke up? The most infuriating part was that he was totally on to her, preferring to smirk and talk as if nothing was wrong or different from usual.

"I have my moments of stupidity apparently then." He smirked at the way she averted her eyes.

.

One whole week of trekking through woods and stone and random cities in their way and she had just about enough of him. No matter what, no matter where, he was there to annoy, irritate and refute her. Her own personal Fury in the face of a mal-adjusted entitled assassin. An assassin who had so far never touched her, saved her from a kidnapper, helped her in her time of need, allowed her to reclaim her freedom, took her with him on a journey he'd have already completed on his own but still kept her around, and sharing food and drink with her as a fellow companion. Why he did that was selfish but it still didn't change the fact he really did it. After all, other people, well-meaning and honest people, treated her ten times worst.

And that was what she found the most ironic and tough to swallow. A man _she_ would consider a reject helped her to effectively become from an actual reject of society into a real member. Plus, and most infuriatingly of all, she had learnt how to push his buttons by now, thus making their coexistence easy—if anything, enjoyable.

She hated that. Or at least that's what she thought, she realised, as she played with her last mushroom on her plate.

"I never asked you; what are you going to do once in Ohira village Shishio-san?"

"I have business to take care of. You?"

She knew she'd get no more out of him, but she considered it a feat that he told her this was work-related. He had never been that open before. "You could say the same thing…personal business." His curious Oh? Was heard and she elaborated. "Remember what I told you my only regret was? Well, I don't like regrets. And this once, I'll make certain he won't be getting up again."

"You want to go back to kill your husband? Admirable!" She rolled her eyes at his choice of words. "Care to share his name?"

"…no; I don't want you stealing the satisfaction from me. If I share, you may indulge."

His horrible laugh was heard, loud and clear, making some of the patrons of the restaurant to stop and stare at them. Neither person cared. "Fair enough." With a small gesture, he made her understand he wanted more sake, and she refilled it out of habit. Distantly, she wondered how they may look to others—a married couple? Like a man and his geisha? It was definitely not as innocent as it actually was.

But suddenly, he drank all of his alcohol in one sip and after depositing some yen on the table – enough to cover for the bill and some change – he stood up.

"Don't wait up for me tonight."

And just like that, he was out the door.

Of course, just as he expected, she did the exact opposite of what he'd advised. When he returned to their room – they shared a room but not a bed – it was too late…but there she was, sitting up, next to a lit candle, reading some text. She looked up at him in pure disdain and disapproval as she took a whiff. "You reek of debauchery." She accused him.

He didn't take it as an accusation though. "You have a good nose." He wasn't drunk per se, but he certainly wasn't sober. And she could smell the perfume of other women all over him. Somehow, that put her even more on edge.

"You should be ashamed! You have a woman with you; what will people say?"

He snorted. "Nothing I'll ever care about."

"But I do!"

"Tough," he could barely hold his laughter in. to think that she thought that he would ever care about stuff like that…

"But what about me?"

That confused him. "What about you?"

The question had confused her, too; what did she care? He could drop dead in a heap of women and smoking! Yet somehow, it still irked her. Why? She decided this very moment was the worst to think about that, so she put it away. "How do I feel about you going off on your own and me being stuck in here?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You wanna come?" He shrugged. "Then come. I'll be going there tomorrow, too."

To be honest, when he told her to come, he didn't expect her to actually do it. So he left at the same time, only this once it wasn't from a restaurant, but their room, wearing the same clothes and giving the same farewell. Only this once, he threw the name of the establishment he would be visiting, too, just for kicks.

So he went to the gambling house the Red Salmon, sat down to play dice and allowed himself to be surrounded by beautiful women as he won game after game. He was feeling quite well about his winning streak, tainted only by a couple of losses, so he enjoyed the ministrations of two young girls, one on either hand, complementing him and feeling him up. He could safely say his night was going just fine.

But then something completely unexpected happened: he watched Aoi walk into the Red Salmon, dressed to impress – which she did, even without the make up one would expect – thundering and resolute. He drew not only his own attention, but the attention of a handful of men, patrons and owners alike. What was it with the older people that felt so attracted to her? Half or more the men who looked taken with her were older than forty!

Objectively though, currently she looked pretty, no wonder she garnered that much attention; and she had a detached air about her that made people look all the more. He included. Dressing up suited her. Heads kept turning as she walked further in and with delight he realised she headed towards him. But her face held a fierce look and something unreadable had taken over.

"You," she spoke to the two women on his arms "scram."

They looked a little taken aback at first, but then stood their ground. "Why should we?" the plethoric brunette on his right asked, brining herself closer to him.

The blonde on his left completed the set by giving her a challenging look. "He's quite the lucky man; such a man deserves more than a scowl-faced hag on his arm as winnings for the night. Ne, Shishio-sama?"

"That's the difference between you and me: you think him lucky to win and consider yourselves as part of his winnings; I think he's lucky he simply gets to revel in my presence." She smirked to the two young girls and he couldn't help but imitate her. "So move. You're in my seat."

"Ah!"

"How dare you?"

"Shishio-sama, you tell her, too!"

As the double act continued, he simply shrugged, smug as ever. "I don't care either way."

The brunette snorted in triumph. "There! Why should we go?"

Her lips curled into something mischievous; she never spared him a look, yet they all knew this was all directed at him. "Because if you don't move, _he_ will and I thought it best you pretend to be scared off by me than being rejected by your client."

Pretending not to care, still not sending him a single glance, she shrugged. Turning around with flourish, she flipped her hair and started walking away…to a different part of the gambling hall. All three watched her go, yet one was feeling decidedly different. Where the shock and indignation formed in the he two girls' faces, Shishio's smirk was as big as ever, eyes shining something dangerous. He felt his blood boil again, in a way it hadn't since he first met her. She involved him directly in this little power-play even if she never talked to him but somehow that made it all the more intriguing.

She basically came and claimed him. In his book, that was hot. That was so hot and promising, he preferred taking his chances with her to the certainty of these two. After all, he never minded the game and the chase…he stood up deftly, untangling himself from the hands and protests of the other two in one fluid movement, and headed decidedly for the one that had been torturing his existence for the past entire month and change.

As he sat next to her on the left, purposefully taking up more space than needed – especially compared to her very proper stance – almost touching her, he lit his pipe. He waited a second or two before he finally spoke. "You made me leave a game I was winning; no one has ever done that before."

She lifted an eyebrow, very skilfully, almost rehearsed. "No one was I, before."

A very low, very guttural chuckle escaped him. "You're being awfully forward tonight. What's up with that?"

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all, but won't you…in the end?"

"Hmph, hardly! All I did was extract you from two fifteen year olds after all." She stopped being coy then, and actually glared. "To have a preference for such young women…I wouldn't have pegged you for the type."

"They were sixteen actually, already marrying age; I happen to be nineteen myself, I see no harm."

"But they are only children!"

He was confused again. "So now you care about them?"

"What? No! I mean, to think you actually left me in that room alone, rejecting my company, only to come and consort with a couple of fourteen-year-olds, how shameful. Do you take me for such an inexperienced person that even children would know better?"

Suddenly, this conversation was taking a fun yet completely unexpected turn. "Wait, are you _jealous_?"

She puckered her lips and looked away. "I wouldn't call it jealousy; I'd call it mortification! I'll be damned if I lost to a thirteen-year-old—or two, doesn't matter. I am much more pleasant and fulfilling company."

"Oh?" He took the pipe out of his mouth; he loved how the girls just kept getting younger and younger in her ravings and he also loved where this was going. "In what aspect?"

She flipped her hair then. "All of them."

He leaned in so close, his shoulder was squeezed against hers and his face merely a breath away. " _All_ of them?"

She watched his lips move and there was something so captivating, she couldn't look away. That caused her to miss the raised eyebrows but it didn't matter for she could perfectly hear that second layer in his voice. "Yes."

Pipe long forgotten on the floor, the hand that supported his weight lifted; his whole body moved and the second hand that was resting on top of his knee, moved to grab her chin. When she didn't turn away, despite their distance – or lack thereof – and his bold move, he felt that pleasant stir in his gut. A stir she felt tenfold. Heh, she hadn't been this intimate with a man for too long—maybe not her entire life.

"I need proof."

"You want proof?" Her speech slurred, if only a little; she was shocked to find she felt a compelling attraction. He replied with a look that promised and threatened everything and that was all the urge she needed. She put a hand on his half-exposed chest, feeling his body for the first time. "I'll give you plenty."

She only had to dip her head and his lips claimed hers in a fierce battle of dominance! She wasn't even fighting him, he was simply that aggressive. As the seconds passed and they were still engaged in this other kind of power struggle, she felt…electrified. She had never been kissed like this before, like she was wanted. Sure, people wanted to have sex with her, her own husband even, way but when, but…never with such intensity and, and thirst. It felt as if it wasn't sex he wanted and she was simply the means to an end, but it was her he wanted and sex was another way to have her.

Her heart beat faster; her breath was all but spent, along with her patience and inhibitions. But when she was about to give in completely, he pulled away. The loss she felt was knew and the smirk on his face didn't help much! She felt she was being mocked for her lust and it was so characteristically him, she wanted to slap it away…or kiss it away. Both sounded good right now because her lips were so swollen, she had to do something with them.

"Get up, come on; we're leaving."

He didn't wait for her to do as he instructed, he was already pulling her to her feet by the arm, as he threw money on the floor. She didn't care to resist, casting away all formalities and allowed him to drag her away. She felt excitement building up in her gut and somehow knew tonight was a night she would not regret.

.

They didn't even make it to their room. Halfway through the route, a random man had the horrible idea to try and hit on her while obviously being escorted by _him_ ; given the situation, he was a little too quick and a little too rough to deal with the annoyance and before anyone knew it, he had thrown said man to the ground unconscious – hopefully not dead – . Normally she'd chastise him for it but right now it seemed he could do no wrong; coupled with the fact that man's idea of hitting on her was pretty much assaulting her, it worked the opposite way.

So she grabbed him by the collar and kissed him on her own, practically jumping in his arms! He never let her go; stumbling through dark back alleys, they found the perfect spot for their sordid affairs: a house devoid of light, people yet not furniture; judging by the way they were kept, the owners must have gone away for the winter. Perfect. They stumbled through the doors that yielded far too easily to his push, knocked feet on furniture but finally ended up on a very convenient, very prominent kotatsu where he propped her up and started untying fabrics and digging through layers…

.

"…why do you kill, Shishio-san?"

"Because I can and I'm good at it."

She expected that answer. "Have you never considered another path?"

"No; I'm not that sort of man."

"Right…so why did you go down this path?"

"Because I was strong and I felt like it."

"…is that why you helped me, too? Because you felt like it?"

"Of course."

She chuckled.

He had forgotten his pipe back at the Red Salmon, so he had nothing to smoke now and somehow she felt something missed from this picture: Shishio lying underneath the kotatsu, head propped up by his hand, on his side. He was _really_ missing his pipe, she thought. And she was missing all of her clothes. Well, he did, too but it felt more natural to him because he was always half-exposed anyway, with the way he wore his hakamashita. She was fully exposed though, clothes lying in a circle around them. Still, she felt no cold on her bare shoulders, for the kotatsu was very warm.

So they lay next to one another, barely an inch apart, after a couple of very passionate – and energy consuming – hours.

"Why didn't you accept me on that first night?"

Since they were in a sharing mood – and in a good mood in general, after all that –, he figured he'd test the waters. And he **had** been meaning to ask her, why he put the both of them through that farce for three entire weeks. It held him back two weeks from his schedule and currently even more, if he considered their journey together, but somehow, he didn't feel like abandoning her. He wasn't accusing her for his delay either—it was him who decided it on a whim. But he was curious.

"When you came to my room for the first time?" He nodded yes; she considered. "…I think it had to do with how you treated me." His eyebrow shot very high. "Allow me to explain," she immediately tried to pacify him, knowing full well he was about to get pissed "that what I mean is…everyone in there treated me either like a plaything or their property. But you came around and you actually stroke up a conversation with me, asked me about myself. You treated me like a person."

Her voice sounded vulnerable for maybe the first time and a smile he had never seen before graced her face. He noted she looked prettier when she smiled genuinely. "And you actually courted me!" She chuckled amused. "Not even my husband used to do that—we went straight from acquaintance to marriage. But you flirted with me and drank with me…you treated me not only as a person but also a woman. And no one had ever done that, ever. It was very strange and new to me. So why would I want to give that up, by giving in to you?"

"Heh, you used me." He sounded not only like he didn't mind, if anything, he was glad; still, he must have been tired, because he made himself comfortable enough to sleep. "Though, I never said I would leave right away, even if you did give in."

She gave the are-you-kidding-me look, only sassier. "You'd be out the door in a second."

"Not if the sex was this good."

She didn't lose the chance to gloat. "See? And to think you preferred a couple of twelve year olds…"

"Soon enough they will be infants, if you keep talking about them."

"Oh hush! They'll be whatever I like." There was a small pause and his eyes closed. "…so why did you?"

Good god, she wouldn't let him sleep. "Why did I what now?"

"Why did you treat me so well? I mean, it's so ironic; the one man who is an evil, self-centred pig is the only one who shows me respect. You're strong so you could have had your way with me anyway. Why didn't you?"

He snorted, closing his eyes again. "Women love me; _all_ women love me. I never had to force one and I wasn't going to start now, especially one that being obedient is her job. It was a pride thing."

She thought as much. With a smirk he couldn't see, she lay down next to him, and actually dared to go near him, snuggling up close; his hands remained behind his head, but made no movements to shoo her away. She intertwined her feet with his and he chuckled, half-asleep already. "You're using me again; this once for heat."

She too had shut her eyes, enjoying the feeling of her body pressed against his. "You're always uncommonly warm so what's the harm?"

"Not even denying it, huh."

She pretended not to hear him. "Let's sleep, Shishio-san."

.

This all became real to her as the sun rose and the new day arrived, when she woke up beneath the borrowed kotatsu, and the borrowed hand of the man that had been chasing her for the past month; lying on her side, he was spooning her, hand on her waist. Well, not exactly; she felt she was being squashed by his weight, as if she was a pillow and not a person. When she dared to move, he brought her back, somewhere between asleep and awake. She tried to move again, but he growled in warning.

She froze; that's when it became real to her. The previous night, all of it, wasn't just a thing her imagination cooked up, it was real. All the passion and the kisses and the—she stopped thinking, red as a tomato! Good lord, all the things she did to him…and him to her. How could she willingly, unflinchingly do them? Now at the light of day she felt a tad ashamed. But she couldn't bring herself to actually keep that feeling of embarrassment going because even now, as his hand lingered on her, she could feel electrified by his touch. And the feeling of skin on skin, his hands roaming her, his tongue, his fingers…he was so. Dexterous. And it didn't discount on the power or endurance department.

Neither did she, of course. She was on her a-game yesterday night and damn it, they had amazing sex. She had never had amazing sex; lukewarm and ok, sure. Good sex, once upon a time, yeah. But she never had mind-blowing, actually memorable sex. Now she did.

What do you know?

"Stop squirming, will you? I don't wanna get up yet. If you make me, I promise I'll have you massage me for every single moment you're not doing something."

"S…sorry…I'll stop."

"Good; since you're awake though, better start thinking of a good place we can eat before we leave town."

And just like that, her biggest fear was dispelled. She worried, no, she almost knew, if he had his way with her, he'd leave. And no matter what she said at the beginning, he leaving her to fend for herself would be the worst case scenario. So she kept denying him access and kept denying indulgence for herself, only so she could make it a little longer. And maybe she wouldn't be found and she wouldn't be returned to that horrible place and maybe…maybe she could avenge herself. Just maybe.

But now, even after he tasted her, he stayed. Her heart was beating faster till she heard him speak those words out of pure fear, but once she was reassured, it started beating faster out of joy! She wouldn't be making this trip alone…! How fortunate. She needed all the crazy, murderous support he could offer, especially under the circumstances and what she had set out to do.

She allowed herself to turn around and face him. Looking at him now, as he lay with his eyes closed, he looked almost…handsome. Wrong; he was handsome anyway; like this, he looked tolerable, he looked like a normal person. How odd; it didn't suit him well. Yet at the same time, it really did. She would have shrugged if she could afford it. Instead, she moved to plant a fleeting, chaste kiss on his lips. He felt it – of course – but didn't react. So she decided to do it again, on his chin; again, nothing. She then opted for more places, like his ear, or his neck, or the other side of his neck…till he said "don't start things you can't finish."

.

They arrived in Ohira Village in about two months. The journey could have been one week, had Shishio done it on his own, at a leisure pace; it would have been three weeks if they walked at her own pace, stopping only to rest at night. But after what transpired between them that night, the journey took an additional three weeks! Of course all that stemmed from the simple fact they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. And it wasn't just him, no; she was just as bad! She knew once they arrived in the village and he killed his target, he'd be long gone, leaving her back there…and she decided to make the most of it. She'd never find another man so willing to try new things with and or on her and actually listen to what she wanted.

Why _shouldn't_ she make the most of it?

Of course, to her not so-surprise, she found out everyone in the village thought she was dead…or just left him. The bastard never said he "divorced" her—never said anything! He let them all think she ran away or was sent away; he left the details up in the air. What an asshole.

"Misses Azumane!" the man who ran the restaurant saluted almost at a loss for words. Literally, it took him half a minute to register. "You're here…! Welcome back, welcome. Please come inside."

When he realised Shishio was with her and didn't just happen to walk beside her, he seemed surprised, like everyone, but he was the most tactful about it, smiling and beckoning. "Would you and your travelling companion like a seat by the window?" All the while, servers came and followed them around with trays and the usual pre-food delicacies. And a warm sake bottle.

"Yes; thank you Sawamura-san." She couldn't believe it was still the same bespectacled man, with the same thick moustache and the same right parting in his hair. Like she was never gone. "Please bring us something with meat to eat and make sure it's a big portion; we walked a very long way."

"As you wish! I'll go put on my best pork."

She nodded; Shishio never spoke a word, quite uncharacteristically. In fact, he'd been looking at her oddly ever since Sawamura-san greeted her. She noticed, but decided not to say anything and let things unfold. Like when a middle-aged woman approached them. Aoi remembered she used to be one of the gossiping ones, so she sort of dreaded, sort of anticipated her visit.

"Ah, if it isn't Aoi-chan! You're finally back at your village."

"I'm not from here, but you can call it my village I guess…since my husband is."

"Exactly, exactly! My, you look so beautiful; prettier than two years ago! What's your secret even, ha ha ha!" Her well-rehearsed laugh died out quicker than what was appropriate and they could see her eyes sliding to the man on the company. "And who might this young man be?"

She turned to him for permission and he shrugged non-committal; knowing what that meant she gave her fake smile and introduced him. "This is Shishio Makoto-san." He jerked his head in a very improper way, to signal his acknowledgment. "He's been travelling with me, helping me arrive safely." She came up with that because she could see the older woman eyeing that sword suspiciously.

"Oh? What else does he do I wonder?"

"You've only just met him, Arakata-san! Let the mystery live on for a while longer…!" Aoi pretended to joke. The alternative would be swearing or anything curt so she decided against it.

"Oh, so he'll stay for a while, how fortunate. A man with such a face and the skillset you imply should not leave too soon…!" Her eyes though spoke of something else altogether. "So, have you been to see your husband yet?"

Was she implying something? "Ah, no; he's been expecting me—we simply hadn't settled on a date."

"Oh, I can understand your reluctance to go see him when escorted by a man like this."

Her eyes could fall off by the intensity of the eye-rolling she performed. "If you're implying we are in any way entangled-"

"—you wouldn't be as stupid as I first made you out to be." Shishio took over, mortification apparent on both women's faces. "Now leave; I'm trying to enjoy a cup of sake. Your presence will sour it."

"Such impudence!" She exclaimed deeply offended. "In my entire life, I have never been-!"

"If you want to have a long one, I suggest you shut your mouth and leave now. And I won't repeat myself."

"Goodbye Arakata-san." Aoi said tersely and waited till the woman was out of earshot. And then it started; Shishio heaved a deep sigh, knowing what's next. "Why did you have to tell her that!? Now the whole village will be talking about it, about us and most importantly, about me! I didn't want to blindside him, but I wanted him to keep guessing if the rumours were true or not. But now it'll be certain…"

"…I don't care."

She pouted, looking disappointed…or was it betrayed? He sighed again. "I didn't even know what you wanted to do; you should have told me" was what he said next, in an effort to appease her. Though why would he want to appease her, he didn't know. Still, he tried. Surprisingly, it helped. Of course that didn't put him out of his own bad mood—a bad mood she had picked up on but had no idea how to deal with.

Getting out his pipe, the one he returned for at the Red Salmon, he started smoking, despite the disapproving looks from the man watching them. "So what do you wanna do anyway?"

"…I want to kill him with my bare hands."

She said it low and deadly; as much as he admired her tenacity, he had to shake his head condescendingly. "Good for you; how are you going to go about it? I don't think you planned to take my sword and just swing at him."

"Oh. No, I have a plan." She shook her hand as if she was swatting a fly away. "I will pretend I'm in love with him that I realised my mistake in betraying him and try and worm my way into the house. The moment he lets his guard down" she made an abrupt, thrusting move with her hand "he's dead."

"That'll take forever." And will definitely involve her somehow fondling that asshole and the idea alone put him in a worse mood.

"Well…it'll certainly take longer than a night or two." Then, she looked at him expectantly. _What now_? His raised eyebrow seemed to articulate his question well, so she continued. "…isn't that how long you're going to be around? Once you've found your target, and I can't imagine it would take more than a day, you'll dispatch him immediately. Then you'll either leave or stay around for some entertainment. So, two days give or take. Correct?"

"…I don't know." Her questioning gaze made him smirk. "I haven't decided yet."

"On what?"

"You." Which was of course a lie. He had already decided. But his answer still caught her off guard and he could see it all over her face: the slight blush, the slight widening of the eyes…he smirked wider. "So don't take a year; besides, I have a better plan."

"And what's that?"

"I already set it in motion." He nodded to the exit and she clearly understood he meant their encounter with the gossiping woman. "If she circulates the rumour that Azumane's wife has a lover whom she's travelling with and even had the gull to bring to the village, your husband will come to you on his own and fast. If he told no one of what happened with you that's obviously because he wanted to save face. How much do you think his pride will suffer if something like that gets around?"

She tilted her head, letting it fall in her palm. She then watched him, quite taken. "You're very charismatic, Shishio-san; your intelligence and ruthlessness are also unparalleled."

"Why thank you."

She chuckled. "Only you'd take the last bit as a compliment."

.

It was close to infuriating how right he was; that same night, while they were staying at their inn – doing all sorts of things before sleeping – Shishio heard a noise. And the man was so unskilled she heard it, too, once Shishio had stilled to eavesdrop. They were in a very precarious position, but Shishio was still ready to attack at a moment's notice. He had to physically remove her from his lap, but he did it in a heartbeat and grabbed the sword in what looked like the same movement. And when the man she recognised as the dead-beat police officer who had "arrested" her two years ago made his appearance, he was already in his range: the tip of his sword drew blood from his neck and the man's hands flew in the air at the same time.

"What the…?"

"Go tell your boss if he wants to kill me, he should at least come himself. Otherwise, if I find you or any other person here again tomorrow, I'll kill you in an instant."

Shishio was not joking. He was smirking alright, but he was not joking; the man could see it clearly in the gleam in his eyes, darkness notwithstanding. He swallowed audibly. "F…fine."

He slid his neck out of the sword's range and slid out the room before she could so much as blink. She sighed. "I hate it when you're right."

"How odd; I happen to love it."

Shaking her head, she allowed him to reclaim her waist and drag her down with him to continue their naughty deeds.

.

Two things Shishio found out the next day: her ex-husband was a spineless eel, lower than the dirt on his shoes. At the same time, he recognised her ex-husband was a shrewd man, apt to survive any given situation. Even after Shishio's very serious ultimatum, they were visited by another man, a man not her husband. He knew because he watched her roll her eyes frustrated; she then elaborated he was one of his right-hand men that lay dead on his back right beneath their window, but not him.

That was when Shishio finally had enough of this asshole and decided to go find him himself. He'd find him in the hole he was hiding, grab him by the short hair and drag his ass all the way to the inn they were staying at so she could finish him off while he was incapacitated. He really would. He even decided to allow her take his prey. After all, the man he had come here to kill was Azumane Hideo. All the info he had about him was how he looked and that he was married to a woman he rarely saw; up till the moment he heard that Sawamura guy call her Misses Azumane, he had no idea why a man would be married t someone he rarely saw. Now he knew.

So he decided she wasn't such bad company to keep and his time with her was satisfying; it was also challenging. There were a myriad of women who saw his strength and immediately grew subservient, not daring to say no. _She_ didn't take his shit and he liked it. He liked her fight and her spunk, it made for a good partner. And who better to have with you on a long journey other than a woman who suited your liking and catered to your needs? So a simply sacrifice of one less dead body from his own hands was a small price to pay. So he headed out, eyes blazing and sword at the ready. He would find this lowlife and bring him to the woman and get this over with.

But an hour had gone by and he was nowhere to be found. Despite going to his house, searching every nook and cranny, despite looking at all of his favourite hang-outs, the parlours and the whorehouses alike, he still couldn't find him. Shishio grew puzzled. This was maybe the first time in all his life he experienced something so frustrating. Where the fuck was that little worm? After yet another hour wasted, he decided it was high time he returned to his room, to maybe consult Aoi on where he could have been. As his ex-wife, she would definitely have some insight to offer.

But the minute he reached his door, he knew something was wrong; his instinct worked before his brain fully registered—his nose in particular as he smelt it, before he ever saw it: blood. There was the scent of blood wafting about and an eerie silence hang in the room. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight and he made a run for their bedroom. And there he saw it.

Bleeding, lying on the futon, was Aoi; a small pool of blood was created around her abdomen, soaking the white fabric in red. She was as white as the kimono she wore. But her eyes…they weren't vacant. They were searching for him; she was still alive. He reached her and bent his knee so she could see him properly. Her lips curled into a smile as her hand tried to touch him; he saved her the embarrassment of not being able to keep it up by catching it as it nearly fell.

"I'm sorry…Shishio-san…I was weak. I didn't…see it coming."

He noticed there was a dagger protruding from between the ribs, wedged so deep within her, only the hilt was visible. "He lay in wait…till you were gone. Then he…came…and killed me."

"You ain't dead yet."

"But…I am. It's only a mat…ter of time."

Her breaths were laboured and sounded like death; blood trickled down her mouth. The spineless eel must have hit a lung. "So what do you want?"

"…kill him…for me…do it…in my…name. F-for…my sake. Please."

"I will."

His readiness sparked her intrigue, even as she lay dying. She had not expected her last wish to go over so well; he knew his character. She was sure he'd refuse! But he didn't. A warmth that had nothing to do with the blood spilling out of her spread inside her. But her obvious surprise was evident and it caused Shishio to explain. "The dying wish of a person should be honoured; and it's right up my alley."

"Th…ank…you Shishi…o-san."

"Don't; you're still dead."

"But so…will he…after y…you're done. I…have no…re…grets."

Her hand slacked in his; her eyes closed for the final time. Aoi Azumane was dead.

And with her, so was Shishio's good humour. Just as he had made up his mind and he was getting used to the idea of a travelling companion, this happens. It pissed him the hell off! He couldn't say ridiculous things such as he was in love or whatnot, but he came to like this person, him, the most demanding of people. If he said she was alright, then she was. And this lowlife came to steal her away.

On one hand, it was her fault for being weak. But then so what she was weak? Her ex-husband was weaker than her if he had to ambush her. This is why he hated weak people! Died too easily or made the worst messes…and if he was so weak he needed to avoid him at all costs, then he had something really interesting to do. He dipped his fingers in her blood before he left and spread it on the blade; this sword had served him well all this time and so had she. It soaked up the blood of all his victims, he might as well soak a little bit of hers as a reminder.

Armed with the absolutely necessary, his sword and his resolve, he took the road to the exit of the village. He employed speed he rarely used, all so he could honour his deal with the dying woman. She gave him her life; he might as well compensate her accordingly. And he did that in order to catch up to the worm. If he was so afraid of his strength, no doubt he'd go and hide somewhere far away, as soon as possible. And since he wouldn't try to underestimate his opponent, he'd try and escape tonight. But because he would underestimate him in the end, he knew he would choose something asinine as the secret-escape-route-that-only-he-knew-conveniently-located-behind-his-house that Shishio had noticed from the first visit.

True enough, some distance behind his mansion, there was the fleeing man, in the company of a pretty young woman, driving away on a cart. Shishio shook his head; how naïve. He thought that was enough to lose him. With sloppy steps, purposefully loud, he caught up to them; he wanted them to know he was coming, to hear his feet on the ground, the crunching of the fallen leaves under them. He wanted them to turn around horrified and see him closing in, confirming their darkest dear.

But most of all he wanted to see and savour the expression of shock, disbelief and pain as he slashed through them, blood spilling like a fountain. It stained the snow-covered ground. A blood-curling scream was heard by the woman next to him, who scurried off like a mouse. He raised his sword again, ignoring the pleas and the tears from the man; he distantly recognised Aoi's name and realised the bastard was trying to negotiate and had the nerve to bring her up. That was where Shishio lost his patience. With a swift diagonal upward move, he slashed again, deeper and more horrible. Pain was etched on the face of the victim. Looking at him as he tried not to collapse, Shishio decided to kick him to the ground.

And that was it. Azumane Hideo, at twenty three years of age, fell by the sword of Shishio Makoto. He had paid his debt and his respect, while also fulfilling his contract. He flourished the sword and the blood that coated the blade was swatted away. His Mugenjin didn't need the blood of the certain victim, or else it might go dull. Looking at the fruit of his efforts, he smirked. Now she was avenged. But now he would go back to the road alone again.

Meh. He hated being alone; it was very boring.


End file.
